Dead Space: USG Colorado
by Captain Crazy-Nonsense
Summary: The unfortunate story of the USG Colorado. They thought they were saving humanity. They thought they were creating peace. They thought the White Marker was their friend. They were wrong. They were horribly wrong. Read and review. Rated T for language.
1. Log 1: Bridge

**Well, everyone, I'm here. I'm going to post my newest sub-story, which is ultimately just Dead Space: the White Marker, except that it's out of script mode and back into the way that I envisioned it. If you're asking for little 'what happened in between' chapters, I'm not going to post those unless one of my more loyal fans asks for it. It's a pain in the ass to go back and re-write the entire canon of my story just so things make a little more sense. I'm mainly just using this to lay down a back-story for _Dead __Space: __the __Third_. I hope that you enjoy this newer version of _Dead __Space: __the __White __Marker_, named _Dead __Space: __USG __Colorado_. Note: there will be some notable dialogue changes.**

**Also, this does follow the canon (for the most part) of the Dead Space universe, with me adding on to the end. EarthGov would have blamed Isaac Clarke as a terrorist for destroying the Sprawl, because telling people the truth would be way too difficult. However, it was (probably) known that there was a Marker on the Sprawl (Ellie wasn't that suprised, if I remember right), so everyone would be aware of it. _Dead __Space: __the __Third_, my other story, also follows this same canon.**

**Disclaimer: (Don't expect another one in later chapters) I don't own the White Marker or the Dead Space Universe. The only exceptions are the planet Jericho II, the USG Colorado, and all of her crew.**

Entry 1: Bridge- Giovanni Brown

August 9, 2513

"We found a Marker down on Jericho II, buried under the sand," Giovanni, captain of the _USG__Colorado,_ spoke into the microphone hurriedly. He wished that he could be down on the sandy planet below, digging up the artifact that had given his religion a purpose. He would forever be remembered as the Unitologist that surpassed even Michael Altman, finding a Marker on a distant planet, nowhere near Earth. This discovery would prove to all nonbelievers that humankind had been created by a more intelligent race, namely by creating life with the Marker's power.

The _USG __Colorado _had at one point been a Planet-Cracker vessel, before that particular line of work had been decommissioned. The _Ishimura_, which had been the first of its kind, was also ironically the last of its kind. Instead, the _Colorado_ had been commissioned to seek out planets with an Earth-like atmosphere, so that they could be colonized and turned into more settlements for the growing human population. The _Colorado_was named after a state that had a similar history to that of the planets, with the transition from barren wasteland to urban environment. The search for these planets had been a dull one, with absolutely no planets capable of holding life. That is, until they discovered Jericho II.

Jericho II was a small, desert-like planet in the Jericho Solar System. While it had appeared to be an obvious 'no', the planet's atmosphere was, in fact, 20.8% oxygen, so a colony had been established there. Three weeks later, the _Colorado_ was called back, with the colonists discovering something buried in the sand. It turned out to be a Marker. The White Marker.

Giovanni sighed. He, however, was the captain of the ship, and could not be down with the other men, so busy digging up his relic. At least he was the one leading the excavation. "We're going to dig it up and bring it back to Earth. We can't afford to lose another Marker, not after that terrorist attack led by that 'Clarke' bastard on the Sprawl."

Brown stared out of the front window of the _USG_ _Colorado_. What would it take for people like Isaac Clarke to perform such sick acts of violence as the attack on Titan Station? Tens of thousands of innocent people, slaughtered by three people who wanted to get their hands on the Gold Marker. The thought was disturbing altogether. According to the obituary, Isaac Clarke and some woman named 'Ellie', one of the terrorists, had survived the explosion. War heroes, like Hans Tiedemann and Gabe Weller had died, taking one of the terrorists, Nolan Stross, down with them. An engineer, a doctor, and a security officer, all plotting to slaughter the innocents onboard Titan Station. Who would have thought it? No one would have, and that's why the terrorists had succeeded.

But Isaac Clarke and his girlfriend had been captured, idly flying around in a stolen gunship. They were in EarthGov's hands now. Hopefully the idiots running EarthGov would make the right decision and execute those monsters. Isaac had apparently gone insane, not being able to explain himself better than blaming some made-up monsters, called 'Necromorphs,' for the attack. It turned Giovanni's stomach knowing that such a man was trying to use such a pathetic excuse to justify slaughter to such a degree. Ellie had tried to use a similar excuse as well. John Richards Sr., the head official of EarthGov, had declared them insane, and put them into cells on opposite sides of what used to be Denver, so that they could decide what to do with the insane couple. Everyone onboard the _Colorado_ eagerly awaited news about the fate of Clarke, hoping that their loved ones would be avenged.

Giovanni clenched his fist, hoping to hear news of the engineer's death when he left. Giovanni would, of course, be disappointed, but there was always a reason to hope. John Richards was a fellow Unitologist, and although his son was slightly illegitimate, the Richards family always managed to make the correct decisions. And the correct decision would be to kill the bastard that killed the Gold Marker. Clarke would not last long.

"The Marker will be safe in our hands." Giovanni growled to the microphone, earning some questioning looks from his crew. "It will be kept safe by us," Giovanni repeated, loud enough for the microphone to record. Before turning off the microphone, the captain of the _USG Colorado_ turned to look at his crew and declared, "Altman be praised."

**…Okay, not my best work, I admit. I'm just trying to work with the hilariously small amount of talking that went on during _Dead Space: the White Marker_ without turning it into another _Dead Space: the Third_. Don't worry, there will probably be more dialouge (I'll completely overhaul the story if I have to) in later chapters, which are, by the way, in chronological order. It'll still be true to its origins, but the story will be better, more understandable, and not such an eyesore.**

**Tell me what you think of the story if you get the chance. I'm in no real hurry to post these. … By which, I mean review. The more people that review the story, the more people that will read it, thinking it will be worth reading. The more people that read this story, the more that will want to check out my more major projects, trying to find better quality.**

**And also, if you read this story, read _Dead Space: the Third_ and review the most recent chapter. I just want to continue the story without abruptly killing off a character, which could possibly end as badly as _Gears of War: Genocide_, my discontinued story.**

**Read, review, and read my other damn stories. It's not that much to ask.**


	2. Log 2: Mining Facility

**Well, here's part two of Dead Space: USG Colorado, the story that critics are calling… absolutely nothing, since no one reviews anymore. I have the fortune of saying that one reader put this story on their Story Alert list, but they did not post a review or anything better, so it's pretty much obsolete. Here's your next chapter, the twenty of you that visited the first.**

**Like I told you before, this story has received a complete, total overhaul. The story is much bigger than it was before, featuring dialogue previously not included and providing more of a back-story to itself and to Dead Space: the Third.**

**This chapter may include some language not intended for children. If you are a child, stop reading and you may escape with your mind intact.**

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><p>Entry 2: Mining Facility Gregory Peyton

August 9, 2513

Gregory Peyton pressed his hand on the button to record audio logs. He briefly hesitated before speaking up. Why did he have to record a log of the mining crew's progress? Wasn't that the captain's job? Even further, wasn't it the captain's duty to be down with the rest of the crew? He _was_ the captain, and he _was_ the one leading the mining operation in the first place. Peyton shrugged it off with a grumble. "This is Head Mining Official Gregory Peyton, formerly First Mate Gregory Peyton." Peyton winced, knowing that someone up in the ship had taken his place, some "Jacobs" bastard. "I've been demoted to this position so that I may supervise the excavation of some Unitology relic. The, err… White Marker, I heard someone call it?"

Gregory turned to look at the mining crew, armed with shovels and picks, digging the sand up. They were forced to downgrade to these primitive tools in order to 'Not hurt the Marker', according to the captain. The mining crew wasn't even allowed to use drills, or vehicles that could lift the sand up faster. It didn't help that this particular area of Jericho was suffering through its annual rainy season, with the sand soaking up the water and becoming heavier. Much heavier.

"I'm making a future note right now to the people who run EarthGov: stop hiring Unitologists to be captains. They're not making anyone's job any easier. We're not getting the authorization we need to use the appropriate tools for this job because he's concerned about _the Marker's_ safety! Actually, the captain's making us use shovels and picks. Shovels and picks—what are we, Neanderthals?" Peyton declared loudly, earning some startled expressions from his fellow crewmates. After turning to ensure they were still working, Gregory stepped off of the platform with the recording software, unwittingly leaving it on, and walked up to the nearest miner. "Judging from the schematics, how long will it take to dig the Marker out of the sand?" he asked, briefly glancing at the two tiny white horns sticking out of the ground a few yards from each other.

The other miner, formerly the Chief of Security, Jose White, glanced up, out of breath, and jammed his shovel in the sandy ground. "Um… judging by the look of things and the state of our equipment, it should take at least four weeks, and that's _if_ we set up base down here. We need those mining tools, sir."

"Damn. We can't use those. The captain won't allow it. Matter of fact, he ordered us not to."

"Why don't we just ignore the captain's orders?" a new voice joined in. Both Peyton and White turned to acknowledge the new person. It was a man, wearing the standard RIG. "If we get the Marker out of the ground without any damage, do you think the captain's really going to care whether or not we cheated?" Gregory shrugged in response to this. "Plus, we're more likely to damage the captain's precious Marker with our current tools. We can make it look inconspicuous, using _plasma _picks and shovels instead of normal ones. From orbit, how would the captain tell?"

Peyton stared the man down. He definitely wasn't from the bridge, that was for sure. No one would dare talk like that. "What's your name, and what are you talking about?"

"Name's Kyle Henderson. I was part of security up on the ship. I _was _investigating a series of rapes that were happening onboard, but now I'm down here, digging up some relic I don't believe in." Kyle looked around briefly before continuing, "Do you see how no one down here is a Unitologist? Don't you find that weird? I think the captain is biased." He shook his head. "Anyways, we need to get the Marker out of the ground, and we need to get back home. I don't want to miss watching that Clarke bastard fry. My parents were on the Sprawl when it happened, I'm not missing this."

Greg looked at the two horns of the Marker very questionably. What did he really have to lose if he allowed his crewmates to go behind the captain's back? All that really could happen was some kind of gain. Either the Marker would be dug up faster, or he got the benefit of knowing that he ignored his captain's orders. Might just make his day. Greg shrugged. "Sure. But just plasma picks and shovels. I don't want to find out that you guys are trying to use those plasma cutters for anything messed up."

Kyle chuckled. "Who do I look like, Isaac Clarke?" He walked towards the deployable storage facility, getting the other miners to follow him.

Gregory sighed and looked back up to the audio log recorder. The record icon was clearly shining, visible to all. Realizing his mistake, Gregory ran up to the platform, almost pressing the off button before hearing a loud scream of terror. Peyton turned and saw Kyle Henderson, holding a bloody plasma pick, collapsing to the ground just as his head came loose. Two others were quick to cut their own throats as well. Jose White was cowering in fear of the blood spewing out of all three dead bodies. Just before Jose collapsed Henderson's head turned onto its back-somehow still alive- and stared him in the eyes, and mouthed the words, "_Make… us… whole…_"

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><p><strong>Yep. <em>Complete <em>overhaul. Those of you who don't recognize the name Kyle Henderson probably never read Dead Space: the White Marker. Kyle was the first suicide on the USG Colorado. Next chapter will be shorter, as it is just the captain reporting the deaths.**

**Read and review. Send me a private message if you want a story written, but don't want to write it yourself. I'll give you the credit for it. Just leave a brief summary (and your name/username, if you want the credit), and I'll see what I can do.**


	3. Log 3: Bridge

**Hey, everyone. It's me again. I wonder if you're reading this story. Apparently, because I got a review. Well, now to address it.**

**Jan Lee: Yep, I did get right to the action this time. It's how I wrote Dead Space: the White Marker (it had to be removed; it was merely a script), that's how I'm writing this. However, expect a large gap in action for a few chapters.**

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><p>Log 3: Bridge Giovanni Brown

August 10, 2513

"The excavation of the White Marker has begun, finally," Giovanni began, idly staring out into space. The new First Mate, Jason Jacobs, was sitting at the control panel, holding the record audio button down.

_Promoted just so that the captain doesn't have to hold a button down anymore. This is ridiculous, _Jason thought as he glared at the captain, facing the other way. The former doctor had been removed from his position to join the others in the bridge, leaving his superior, Jacob DuFresne, with just some understudy in the medical bay. No one complained when he arrived, and no one would complain when the real First Mate came back up from Jericho and replace Jason, least of all Jason himself. He didn't belong in the bridge, that was where people like Giovanni Brown and Gregory Peyton thrived.

"Well, I should say, _officially _begun. Progress has increased, and now the miners are actually getting the Marker out of the ground. According to the Head Mining Official's report, it should only take two weeks to get the Marker out of the ground, two weeks ahead of schedule." Giovanni sipped a small amount of coffee; with all others on the bridge glaring at the hypocrite while his back was turned. "I knew I made a smart decision, assigning my First Mate that position. He will be known as a saint among our ranks if he brings it up intact." Another sip. "That's all I have to report."

Jason lightly grimaced as he remembered the suicide report. How did the captain forget something like that? "Sir, the suicide report…" he whispered, keeping the audio log on.

"Hmm?" Giovanni turned around suddenly, causing all in the room to look away very suddenly. "Oh, yes. There were some suicides on site, three nobodies. They will be missed, and all that stuff." Another sip. "Their bodies are being autopsied."

Jason shrugged. At the very least, the captain was showing some remembrance of the three 'miners' dying, even if he was insulting their memory while doing so.

"Hmm. Well, the men's bodies are being examined by Doctor DuFresne. Very competent man, from what I've heard. He'll surely show respect for our men's religion." Jacob rolled his eyes at this. Everyone knew that there were only a few Unitologists onboard, the captain included. Even if one of them was a Unitologist, it wouldn't matter. They'd still be going in the cryogenic tubes. It wasn't that big of a deal. It was only three people.

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><p><strong>Like I said, it was short, and this story is at the bottom of my priority list.<strong>

**Read, review, dismember.**


	4. Log 4: Ship's Morgue

**Well, here's the next chapter. I know no one reads this story, but it wouldn't feel right not to continue writing.**

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><p>Log 4: USG <em>Colorado's <em>Morgue/ Jacob DuFresne

August 10, 2513

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><p>"This is Medical Officer Jacob DuFresne," The senior medical officer reported as he flicked on the recording device, opening a new audio log. "Earlier today, three members of the crew killed themselves. Slit their goddamned throats." Jacob began putting on his surgical gloves. "The captain has brought the bodies to me, and wants me to determine the cause of death. It's a little obvious, but whatever keeps me off of Jericho II is good enough for me. Medical Officer Nathan Henry will be taking the role of my assistant today."<p>

Jacob looked up at the other medical officer. It had taken some convincing, but the captain had allowed one of the other medical officers to stay in the morgue with him. It would have been terrible to be stuck without an assistant, even worse to be stuck with one that didn't know what he was doing. All the other medical officers, including the senior medical officers, were down on Jericho II, mining out the White Marker. Being a Unitologist, the Marker was a rather 'big deal' to Jacob, a conduit that proved the truth behind his religion.

Getting closer to the dead bodies, Jacob there was a… peculiar stench coming from the bodies. Similar to rotting, but much worse than that… the medical officer slipped on his surgical mask and began to examine the wound that had decapitated one of the miners. "Who was this man?"

Opening a data-pad, Nathan searched the Colorado's manifest for the man's identity. No one had actually told either of the officers any of the corpses' identities. "Right… this guy was… um, Kyle Henderson."

"The security officer working on stopping those rapes?" Jacob looked up from the body. He had heard rumors that the captain had made some… unusual mistakes with who to send down to Jericho, but that was really starting to push the bar. When Nathan nodded, Jacob continued to ask, "Did he suffer any form of depression?" before turning back to examine the body.

"Nope. Happy and cheerful guy, up until Cap'n Brown told him he had to go down. No mental problems, either. At least, that's what the psychiatric report says." Jacob pressed a few more buttons, probably searching for the other two miners' names.

Jacob touched the scabbing wound where Henderson's head once was. Even through the gloves it was warm to the touch, although the rest of the body was cold. Jacob took a slight note of what appeared to be burn marks where the cut began on the throat. Jacob turned to inspect the head, which had been gruesomely set aside from the body by the people delivering the bodies. Around the throat, there were more burns. "It appears… that Mr. Henderson killed himself with an abnormally hot object, which decapitated him." He looked up. "Is there anything on site that can cause these kinds of wounds?"

Nathan looked up from the data-pad. "Um… well, there are plasma picks and plasma cutters, but the miners don't have access to them. Cap'n's orders."

"Yes, I know that they have those things. Can they inflict these kinds of wounds?"

Nathan blankly stared. "Um… I don't know."

"Hmm. Maybe they disobeyed the captain's orders. I would, too, in their situation." Jacob grabbed a nearby scalpel and began to chip away at the wound. "Either way, get me a plasma pick up here after we're done. I need to run an experiment with one."

Nathan nodded and continued to look through the data, trying to find anything he could use, while DeFresne continued to chip away at the wound. Soon, an orange semi-solid, possibly a combination of pus and blood, began to force its way out of the open wound and onto the operating table. Jacob examined without disturbing the body any further. Once on the table, the pus-now about the size of a key on a keypad- began to literally crawl, similar to a slug, over towards Jacob. "Fascinating," he observed as the substance forced its way past and over a pair of tweezers. The stench from earlier somehow forced itself through the surgical mask, and the medical officer realized that the liquid was causing the stench. He grabbed an empty container and delicately used the side of his scalpel to push guide the pus-creature into it.

Jacob sealed the container and set it aside, making a personal note to examine the pus itself. The stench almost immediately went away. The doctor made a few more chips with his scalpel, expecting more of the pussy substance to work its way out, but when none came, he turned his attention to the other bodies. "Any identification yet?"

Nathan had been completely oblivious to the event happening just across the room from him. "It took a while, but, yeah. The guy with the dirty-blonde hair's name is Monty Pritchard, and the ginger's Kirk Forrester." He set the data-pad aside. "Neither one of them had psychological problems." The other officer pulled on his surgical gloves and walked over to Jacob.

Jacob moved over to the blonde corpse. The man's shoulder-length hair was bloodied, and some of it had been cut off by the cut from what Jacob was positive came from a plasma pick. He examined the wound. Also burn marks, but not nearly deep enough to take his head off. Jacob made a quick report of this, then moved over to the other body and made the same general report.

Jacob opened his RIG's video-link to Captain Brown. "Sir, autopsy is done."

"_Anything to report?_" the captain asked on the other end of the link, sipping his coffee.

"I notice that there are some burns around their cuts. I'm going to need a plasma pick and plasma cutter to run a few tests."

The captain appeared to be slightly annoyed by this request. "_Why would you need some of those? The mining crew couldn't access those, they would need Jason's access codes._"

"We can never be too sure about insubordination," the medical officer reported while removing his surgical gloves.

The captain took a long drink, and then agreed, "_Yeah. Bet no one thought that Clarke bastard would have blown up the Sprawl, 'cause he was just an engineer. If someone had been a little more careful…_" the captain turned to talk to some unseen crewmate. "_Benny, get the doctor a plasma pick and a plasma cutter. Check the mining facility's plasma tools for any blood. I don't exactly trust them anymore. And get someone down there to put the bodies in their cryo-tubes. See you later, Jacob._"

Jacob took off his surgical mask, and raised both of his arms into an 'X' shape, the sign of Unitology prayer. "Altman be praised." Once his video-link closed, Jacob turned to leave, first grabbing the container with the organism in it. It had duplicated into two creatures. "Intriguing…" It had been only a few minutes, and yet the blob had already begun to multiply. This was worth further investigation. "See you tomorrow, Nathan," the officer said in dismissive fashion to the trainee.

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><p><strong>Read, review, dismember.<strong>


	5. Log 5: Bridge

**This one's short. Enjoy.**

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><p>Log 5: Bridge Giovanni Brown

August 11, 2513

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><p>"There were a few more suicides on the facility. This time, there was also a murder." Giovanni took a sip of his coffee. "Couldn't prosecute him, though. Killed himself, along with the others. I've sent the plasma pick and cutter that Jacob requested, along with the bodies. It's been a long week. … Heh, look at that. It's only a Tuesday. <strong>(AN: I am fully aware that that date is probably wrong, just let me have this!)<strong> Either way, the Marker is getting ever so closer to being dug out of the sand." He took another sip, his coffee being his stress reliever. "It seems the _Colorado_ has quite a demented crew. Some of my crew…" Giovanni turned to take an annoyed glare at Jacobs, still holding the record button down, "Believe that it would be better to just take the Marker clear out of the planet's crust. However, that's illegal to do without a Planet Cracking permit from EarthGov Headquarters, and I will not allow the Marker's discovery be an illegitimate one!" he shouted to the officers on the bridge.

He sat down into a chair. "However, some good has happened. My brother actually showed up today!" Giovanni continued as he turned to look at his smiling brother, sitting across from him. This earned a confused look from Jacobs. "He was on the Sprawl when Clarke began his attack. You're lucky you got off when you did!"

Fredrick Brown smiled and nodded. "_Yeah, something just told me that that day was not a good one._" Jason just kept turning to look at Giovanni, and then to the chair in which Fredrick was sitting. "_I was out in space for so long, I thought I would die._ _But, I got lucky, and my ship landed here!_"

"Ah, you're right. You know they have your name in the obituary, right?" Giovanni chuckled at the shocked face of his brother. "It's true. I'll see what I can do about that once we're back on Earth."

"Um… sir? Who are you talking to?" Jason finally asked, desperately confused at the conversation.

Giovanni sighed, sipped his coffee once more, and explained, "My brother. You know, the person who came into the bridge earlier and sat down right there? He's still there, for future reference." He rolled his eyes and explained to his brother, "Sorry. Some people here just aren't very smart, can't make connections in their heads."

"_Of course. That's completely understandable. You know the two of us look so different._" Fredrick said, pulling out a cigarette and his signature lighter. "_You don't mind if I smoke here, do you?_"

"After what you've been through? 'Course not." Giovanni chuckled.

Jacobs, still looking very confused, interrupted, "Sir… There's no one there."

"Jacobs, are you blind or something? My brother is sitting _right there._" Giovanni scolded, annoyed at the First Mate's interruptions. "Do you need your eyes checked or something? Can someone else please explain to this man the meaning of hospitality? Pretending Fredrick isn't there doesn't make him any less real."

Jacobs opened his mouth to object, but sighed in annoyance, giving up. Maybe the captain needed to be checked out by a psychologist.

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><p><strong>Read, review, dismember.<strong>


	6. Log 6: Ship's Morgue

Log 6: USG _Colorado_'s Morgue/ Jacob DuFresne

August 11, 2513

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><p>Jacob slipped on his surgical gloves and began to inspect the bodies before him. Eight bodies were laid out on operating tables. "This is Medical Officer Jacob DuFresne. We have more bodies. Seven suicides, one murder." He sighed as he recognized the stench from the day before. "There appears to be an odor coming from the bodies. Preparing to discover source." Jacob was fully aware of the source, but had realized overnight that he had forgotten to make any reference of it during the previous autopsy, even to Nathan. He put on his surgical mask. "Are you ready?"<p>

"Yes, sir," the trainee responded, likewise equipping his mask, today being fully aware of the stench.

"Identification," Jacob requested, grabbing his scalpel and examining the African man before him.

Nathan opened a holo-pad. "Well, at least they were nice enough to provide the ID this time. The man in front of you is 'Mack Walthers.' The blonde with the long hair is named 'George Anderson', while the blonde with the short hair is named 'Troy Antony'. The guy with the mini-fro is named 'Lucas Sanders', and…" Nathan continued to list out the names, but the medical officer didn't care. The cuts were there again. On the necks, every one. Even the murder. There were the burn marks around them again. Jacob began chipping away at the scab left on Walthers' neck. The blood began oozing out, very slowly, but soon came the all-too-recognizable stench of the unusual substance. Nathan began to cough. "Christ, you smell that? It's getting through my mask. Ugh…"

"If you wish to leave, go ahead," Jacob stated while observing the ooze beginning to force its way out of the open wound, understanding entirely how the man felt. As he heard the coughing understudy leave, he called, "See if any other medical officers remaining are willing to be my assistant on the way out!" He turned back to the sludge, which was trying to make its way up the scalpel. "There is a pus-like material coming out of the neck wound. It seems to be moving by itself." He shook his scalpel slightly, which caused the material to fall to the operating table. It began to crawl its way toward the body of Mack Walthers. That was odd. The other substance had tried to go toward Jacob.

"It is moving toward the body. That's… odd…" Curiosity got the best of him, and Dr. DuFresne jabbed the substance with the scalpel. He was met with a sudden screech. It wasn't coming from the pus, he was sure of that. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. It hit his ears at maximum volume, and any noise that may have been occurring at the time being was silenced by the interference. Jacob collapsed to his knees, holding his ears shut with both of his hands. The noise was louder than anything he had ever heard before. He could feel his eyes rolling back and his arms beginning to flail as he fell onto his back, but could do nothing to stop them. Jacob landed, on the back of his skull, onto the steel below him.

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><p>Amanda Manuel, the main psychologist onboard the USG <em>Colorado<em>, walked towards the morgue, in no real hurry whatsoever. The Chief Medical Officer's understudy, Nathan Henry, had shown up to inform Amanda and the other remaining doctors on the ship that the officer needed an assistant in order to perform the autopsies in comfort. Amanda's parents had always told her to learn everything she could about medical science as a teenager, so she figured it couldn't hurt to learn a little bit about autopsying a body. She really wished that it was some other medical officer teaching her, though, besides Jacob DuFresne.

Everyone on the ship had a general understanding about the medical officer in charge. Jacob was viewed as somebody like Doctor Frankenstein, to the point that people had started making rumors about him. How he was into necrophilia, or how he was a cannibal, or even how he took parts from the bodies to experiment on them later. Everyone was aware of these rumors. All of them might make sense as to why he spent so much time in the morgue. Almost all of them, however had been disproved by his assistants, but they still flowed throughout the ship. They still horrified Amanda. She, however, hoped she would see for herself that everyone was wrong.

Amanda reached the sky blue pad that indicated the doorway to the morgue. She waved her hand in front of it, and walked into the room once it opened. Jacob DuFresne was laid on the floor less than ten steps from the doorway.

She ran over to the doctor. His surgical mask was missing, and some blood was coming out of the corner of his mouth. Amanda lightly slapped the man. "Hello? Wake up, doctor." She could hear the man's RIG's heartbeat monitor showing he was alive, but in a rushed heartbeat. She opened up a video-link to the captain of the _Colorado_. "Sir, this is Amanda Manuel. Doctor DuFresne is unconscious in the morgue! I came in here, and he was knocked out! Send some help, quickly!"

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><p>Jacob awoke with a start. What had happened in that dream? What were those things? Those creatures… what were they? It took Jacob a few seconds to realize that he couldn't see. The world was black. Everything was pitch-black darkness.<p>

Jacob sat up, realizing he had been lying down. He could hear something in the distance, but it was muted. He couldn't hear perfectly, and only heard the last few words, just barely.

"… _lright, doctor?"_

Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but then saw something in front of him. Four large glowing yellow letters, in Unitology script.

The first was a circle; with two slanted lines above it that turned meet the ground after passing the circle.

_P…_

The next was the letter 'N', only backward, with a small circle at the bottom-right corner.

_PA_…

The third letter was two lines with a circle between them. One curved above the circle to meet the other.

_PAI…_

The final letter, (Jacob swallowed, already knowing what it would be) was a line that went up slightly, before turning into a separate, curved line, with then turned to a horizontal line.

_PAIN._

Suddenly, Jacob saw the word everywhere, filling every inch of darkness in a different shade of different colors. He felt his insides beginning to bruise themselves. He felt his bones fracturing each other simply by existing. He felt his skull trying to force itself out of his head. Jacob writhed in pain, and then saw that all the words had focused on one area, two feet in front of him, in the shape of a human female. He had to make the pain go away.

Jacob DuFresne leaped up from his position, right toward the figure. His eyes traveled slightly to his right as he pounced, toward an object covered in a word in green Unitology script.

_SALVATION._

Jacob reached for the object, and swung it at the _PAIN_. It reacted with a muffled, pained scream. He made stabbing motions, and suddenly felt a warm liquid on his hand.

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><p>Jacob suddenly snapped out of his trance. He held his scalpel in the chest of the dying psychologist on the ground. Realizing what he had done, Jacob stood up and backed away from the body.<p>

The morgue's door opened, and in walked two security officers, pulse rifles in hand. It took them three seconds to access the situation before they fired.


	7. Log 7: Mining Facility

**Log 7: Mining Facility/ Gregory Peyton**

**August 12, 2513**

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><p>Gregory watched patiently as the bodies were put into the shuttle and brought back up to the USG <em>Colorado<em>. It was truly a tragedy, to have over twenty deaths in the span of three days. But the horrific thing was that the captain was doing nothing to stop it. Matter of fact, it was almost as if the captain was ignoring the deaths altogether. In everyone's eyes, the captain was worthless. Even worse, they thought the captain was a traitor.

It was rumored that, just the day before, the senior medical officer, Jacob DuFresne, had murdered one of the ship's psychologists. The security team fired on him, but had scored no lethal blows, or even hit the man's arms. The captain decided to ignore the event and cleared the doctor for duty, claiming that it was all, "A terrible misunderstanding."

Greg turned to the recording system. "This is ridiculous… The captain's a traitor, I just know it. Twenty-three suicides—_twenty-three real people!_—and the captain's just shrugging it off like nothing's wrong." He slammed his fists against the table. "That's bullshit, and both he and I know that." Jacob kicked over a nearby trashcan in frustration. "I just know he's a traitor. He let the doctor guy live, even after he murdered someone. That's not going to fly. As soon as I get back to Earth, I'm going to get a new captain, or I'm going to walk!"

Gregory turned to look at the Marker's dig site. It was almost halfway out. The mining crew was working double-time to get it out of the ground. Who could blame them, with all their friends killing themselves around them. He heard a screech of terror come from behind the Marker. He leaped over the railing, onto the sand below, and ran to find the source.

When he arrived, two more lay dead in the sand. Quick to come to his side was the ever-present Zachary James, another 'miner' stuck on Jericho II. "Son of a bitch, two more? The shuttle just left!"

"Yeah…" Peyton said, lightly nodding. He started to pull the bodies away from the Marker. "This just isn't good for morale."

"You don't say." Zach turned to the onlookers beginning to gather. "More suicides! Come on, guys, we don't have time to waste, we need to get back to work! The faster we can get this thing out of here, the faster we can leave and never have to see this damn Marker again!" Ever since he first arrived as the replacement of Kyle Henderson, he had had a theory that the Marker was causing everyone to kill themselves. Everyone mocked him, but they all knew there was some truth to his theory. They were certain of it.

"How much longer do you think that we'll be here?" the Head Mining Official asked with a sigh.

"With the captain in charge? We'll probably never leave, he'll make us look for more Markers under the sand. We'll be looking for Markers until the _Colorado_ runs out of suckers for him to send down." It was James' attempt at a joke. It was quite obvious that the miner couldn't tell jokes very well. Either that, or this particular 'It's funny 'cause it's true' joke just wasn't very funny.

"Yeah… Probably."

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><p><strong>Read and review.<strong>


	8. Log 8: Bridge

**Log 8: Bridge/ Jason Jacobs**

**August 12, 2513**

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><p>"This is Acting Captain Jason Jacobs," Jason said into the recording piece. "The captain is being checked out for psychological damage. I'm to cover for him during his absence."<p>

It would be no real surprise if it turned out that Captain Brown was suffering from psychological trauma. A lot of things pointed to this. Giovanni not pulling back due to the suicides, he was talking to dead relatives, he even let a murderer go back to work in the morgue. Even further so, the last decision was probably just because Jacob DuFresne was another Unitologist. Jason sighed in annoyance. He couldn't change any of these things, because only the real captain would be allowed to, and that was something that he simply was not.

"There have been a few more suicides as well. The morgue is beginning to get kind of full; we're going to set up a larger, temporary morgue down on Jericho." The USG Colorado had never been intended to fit many dead bodies onboard. Once an actual colony was set up on Jericho, the morgue would be their problem. "It should be deployed within the day." Something crossed the acting captain's mind. "… And there will be _no_ autopsies. Doctor DuFresne will have to work with what he has."

Jason sighed again in annoyance, deciding to change topics. "The White Marker is almost halfway out of the ground. Just a few more days –perhaps three, maybe even less– and we'll be gone. Much faster than previously anticipated. That's a good sign, because we need to get out of here. There was a suicide report almost immediately after the shuttle retrieving bodies left. I'm not entirely sure why, but I don't think it's that good of an idea to keep digging up the Marker. Seems… unsafe, to be completely honest. Like there's something sinister about it." Jacobs looked out of the _Colorado_'s window, down at the planet below. It had been a while since it had rained, and the sand had finally dried out. And yet, the sand had managed to form what may have looked like crop circles around the Marker. Perhaps it was merely the work of a slacker trying to avoid his duties down on Jericho II, but for some reason the acting captain doubted it. _Far too large for that. I can see it from all the way up here._

Jason pulled out an old coin from back on Earth, and flipped it a few times, trying to think of something else to report. He backtracked back to Jacob DuFresne. "The Senior Medical Officer, Jacob DuFresne, has experienced some bodily harm. Both of his legs are broken, and his lower spine, putting him in a wheelchair. Despite what the physical therapists say, he's going to return to work in the morgue." Jason lightly winced at the fact that he couldn't directly report the murder of the psychologist that Jacob murdered, due to the captain ordering the crew to refer to it as an "unfortunate accident", and leaving DuFresne out. "In an unrelated event, one of the ship's psychologists, Amanda Manuel, was killed. Multiple stab wounds, but…" he lightly shuddered, "… no clue who the murderer is."

He began flipping his coin again, but couldn't think of anything else to say. _Better safe than sorry._ He turned to one of the EarthGov Elites on the bridge. "Am I forgetting anything?" he asked the soldier, but it was actually more of a question to anyone who could answer.

The soldier shook his head, and decided to examine his rifle at this time, being especially careful to avoid switching the safety off.

"Okay, then. I guess that's it, then." Jason moved to turn off the recorder, but instead heard a minor grunt. He turned back to the soldier.

The man flicked his safety off, and pointed the rifle at his jaw. "Okay, dad. If you're sure…" His finger moved to the grenade launcher trigger.

Jason realized almost too late what was happening. He didn't have time to stop the soldier. "Hit the deck!" he yelled as he dove to the ground, away from a possible blast radius.

Jacobs heard a few more people drop to the ground as well before the explosion occurred. He was the first and fastest to stand. The soldier had killed both himself and another man. The only evidence to this was that there were two helmets on opposite sides of the room, one horrifically torn up, and the other just burned, still attached to the body. The rest was just blood and bits of scrap metal from what may have been a suit at one point.

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><p><strong>Sorry about all the short chapters. I'm trying to wrap this up to get ready for a collab.<strong>


	9. Log 9: Ship's Morgue

**Log 9: USG _Colorado_'s Morgue/ Jacob DuFresne**

**August 12, 2513**

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><p>Jacob wheeled himself toward the ship's morgue. Both of his legs were broken, he couldn't feel below his pelvis, and he was in a wheelchair, but the doctor was fully aware that it could be significantly worse. He could be dead, or stuck in the brig with these problems. With the rate of fire coming from the pulse rifles, it was lucky that he was still alive to begin with.<p>

Jacob felt some guilt over the murder of a fellow doctor, but he was used to being around and analyzing death. It only would have been a matter of time before he caused it, anyway. He was also lucky that he was able to convince Captain Brown to not throw him into the brig, but he felt that it was only because they were both Unitologists that he was a free man.

Jacob sighed. He passed his quarters. He stopped momentarily, deciding whether or not to check on the strange substance that he was examining inside of his room, but forced himself not to. _People are already suspicious of you,_ the doctor thought to himself as he wheeled himself forward, _and it isn't going anywhere._

He made it to the morgue the same time he usually did, with nobody else there yet, and no one would be joining him. Nathan Henry had, apparently, opted out of morgue-related duties after the death of Amanda Manuel, apparently paranoid.

_And that's completely justified,_ a small part of the doctor's brain told Jacob as he slipped on surgical gloves and a surgical mask. He wheeled his way over to the bodies of Mack Walthers and the other miners, still on the surgical tables.

"Day two of this autopsy… I'm back from the medical bay, a few broken bones, but I'll live. I'm really lucky for the Auto-Med system; otherwise I wouldn't be here after… 'The unfortunate accident'," Jacob said, referring to the title that Captain Brown had given the death of Amanda. "Now, back to 'autopsying'…" He grabbed the plasma pick that he had requested for two days ago, and made a small incision, just below the neck wound of Walthers'. Once the plasma cooled down, he would compare the two wounds.

He set the pick down, and switched it for his scalpel, feeling more secure with it in his hand. Jacob wheeled over to one of the more light skinned miners, and noticed something peculiar on the body of Troy Antony. "This is odd… the skin appears to be rotting at a significantly faster rate." It was true. Most of the flesh appeared to be of an orange-yellow tint, and falling off, and the left arm appeared to be much shorter than a human arm should be. There were large clumps of skin around both collarbones. "This isn't normal." Jacob looked at the eyes of the dead miner, still open. The eyes stared back, almost as if they were staring directly into Jacob's soul. It chilled him to the bone.

The most curious things were the clumps of skin on the collarbones. Jacob moved his scalpel to the left one, and made an incision. It took a while, but slowly, something came out. … But it wasn't the ooze that had come out of the neck-wounds.

A spear-tip began to force its way out of the open wound. The mere sight of it disgusted and intrigued the doctor. It continued to grow, until the base of it changed to something that greatly resembled the bones normally located in the arms. His eyes shifted to the normal arm. It was shrinking greatly, and contorting itself into a flexed shape. Necrosis should have rendered it stiff, but this arm was bending and flexing its inside muscles, yet shrinking at the same time. His eyes went back to the spears coming out. They might have been the bones within the arms, but now they were covered in the same unusual-colored skin on the rest of the body.

Jacob, curious as ever, lightly touched the new… 'Limb' was perhaps an inappropriate word for it, and it suddenly jumped to life, launching itself forward. The limb held itself like a scorpion holds its tail above its body.

Jacob wheeled back a few feet, but returned when it refused to go any further. Jacob turned his attention to the other mound of flesh on the other collarbone. It was bulging now. He moved his scalpel to that mound, but a new limb immediately burst out, nearly severing his hand. Both limbs began to wildly flail- one of them hitting the doctor- and knocked Jacob backward onto the ground. It took about ten seconds, but he forced himself back up. The body was gone. He turned to look at the entrance to the morgue. It was still shut.

He opened his holo-link to the captain. The acting captain's face appeared, looking quite distressed. "Captain!"

"_Now is really not the time, Doctor. _Really_ not the time._" Jason Jacobs said, holding his palm to his head.

"Sir! One of the bodies is gone!" Jacob said in fear. He forced himself back into the wheelchair. "Something is seriously wrong with it! We need the ship on full alert!"

"_Doctor… A man just killed himself up here and almost killed me. I'm a too little busy with other things at the moment to go searching for a dead body._" Jason said with a glare. "_And 'full alert'? What's it going to do, stare us into oblivion? It's a dead body. Get over it._"

Jacob opened his mouth to object before the acting captain continued, "_The body, and the body of another soldier he killed, will not be going to you. We're deploying a morgue down on Jericho II. The autopsies are done. Once you're done with the ones in the morgue, you are to return to and stay within—_" there was the sound of a door opening, and Jason looked up and flinched at what he saw. "_Captain!_" The man saluted, and immediately the holo-link switched to the face of Giovanni Brown.

"_What's going on here? I heard quite a bitter tone in my replacement's voice. What's the matter, Doctor DuFresne?_"

Jacob explained to his true captain what had happened. He had managed to keep an intrigued look on the whole time, but eventually he cut off the medical examiner in mid-sentence, "_Look, Doc. I'm fully aware of the stress that working hard can do to you. I was seeing my dead brother not even a day ago. My own dead brother. You're just seeing things. There's nothing to be afraid of._"

"But—but—!"

"_But nothing, Doctor. Head back to the medical bay. You probably need some rest. You were seriously injured yesterday. A day isn't enough to get over physical trauma. You know that._" Giovanni reasoned.

Jacob looked away from the Captain, trying to come up with an argument, but couldn't piece one together. The captain was probably right. Stress. That was probably what caused his unusual vision just a day prior, and was probably what had caused him to imagine the body vanishing. It was still probably there, but his mind was playing tricks on him. "… Okay, sir. I'll head back to the med-bay."

"_Good. Don't worry, the Marker will be out of the ground soon enough, and then we'll get out of here. We won't have to worry any more dead bodies._" Giovanni said in a reassuring voice. He closed their holo-link.

Jacob wheeled out of the morgue. He stopped at his quarter's doorway. The pus-like substance was oozing its way out from under his door. He didn't bother going inside. The stress would probably make him see things even worse than 'scorpion-limbs' if he went into there. He wheeled around the sludge taking up the hallway and headed to the medical bay.

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><p><strong>Okay, we're getting closer to the finale... what will happen with the substance in Doctor DuFresne's room? Why is the captain acting so out of character? Will any of these questions be answered in the next chapter? Tune in next time to find out on Dead... Space... Z! Er- my bad. <em>USG Colorado<em>. That's the name of this story.**

**Read and review.**


	10. Log 10: Deployable Morgue

***Walks to computer, checks e-mail* Huh. I got a favorite story alert. And it's for USG Colorado. ... Oh, god damn it! I forgot to the latest chapter of this story!**

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><p><strong>Log 10: Deployable Morgue Benji Simmons**

**August 12, 2513**

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><p>Ben juggled a pistol in his right hand as he walked toward the deployed morgue. It was all he could do to calm his nerves. A morgue. Simmons had to supervise a morgue. One of the only crewmembers on the USG Colorado that suffered from necrophobia, and he had to supervise a morgue. He was deathly afraid of dead bodies, and anything to do with dying. Just looking at one made him sick to his stomach. Unitology supported death, and he had been tormented his entire life by the cult.<p>

"This is former assistant communications officer Benji Simmons." The man said to a newly opened recording log. "A morgue has been deployed here on Jericho II, and thanks to evaluation reports," Benji looked away, remembering in embarrassment how he had been slacking off the past couple of days, "I have been sent to supervise it."

He slowly approached the aquamarine panel of the front door. On it, the ever-familiar word 'OPEN' stared at him, taunting him. Reluctantly, the former comm. officer waved his hand in front of the panel. The morgue recognized his ID, and opened, revealing the cold, dark room before him. There were about ten cryo-tubes within the morgue, meant for freezing any dead bodies, particularly 'important' or Unitologist bodies. Two men were laid out on stretchers before him, one of which only consisted of a lower half. Ben had to turn away to avoid puking up his lunch. He could have sworn he saw an intestine or two pouring out of the body.

The morgue doors opened, and in walked Zachary James, the HMO's newest 'best friend'. "Looks like we're setting up base here. Sorry about this." He was carrying two dead bodies over his shoulders, much to Simmons' surprise and disgust. Still, the man pulled two stretchers over, and James set down the bodies onto them.

Simmons had to turn away to avoid puking at the sight of a massive laceration across both of the men's necks. He barely managed it. Swallowing, he asked the other man, "Why… why is it that I have to guard these bodies? It's just… Why?"

The other man turned to look at him with an annoyed look on his face. "Because, you do. Stop complaining, you're probably going to end up preventing this body from getting messed up by a necrophiliac." He turned to walk away. "You never know who might be one, the psychological tests don't check for that."

A… A necro-what? "What the hell is a 'necrophiliac'?"

James turned back again as he reached the door. "Someone that's aroused by dead bodies and dead things."

That was the last straw. Benji could somewhat handle intestines, slit throats, and being around dead bodies altogether, but that image was just way too much. He ran to the restroom at the thought, and vomited at the sheer disgustingness of it all. Was a 'necrophiliac' even a real thing? Was James just playing a trick on him? Ben desperately hoped so. He turned around at the sound of a disembodied voice speaking out, "_Benji…_"

"Who's there?" the morgue attendant asked out to the rest of the building. He pulled out the pistol given to him by the Head Mining Official. He stepped out into the actual morgue and pointed it around, trying to find the voice. But then it dawned on Ben. It was one of the other miners, playing a cruel trick on him. "Very funny. Come on out, guys. That's not cool."

"_Benji… Listen very carefully to me…_" the voice said, sounding less human and more animalistic with every word. "_You need to use your gun… Prepare the bodies…_" The lights in the morgue went off. A silhouette of something inhuman stood over the two latest dead bodies. It was hovering a few feet off of the ground. It pulled out what looked like a pistol. Ben walked over, raising his pistol at the thing.

"Stop now. The game is over. Get out of the morgue." Simmons nudged the silhouette with his gun. He was necrophobic, but he wasn't scared by stupid tricks. His eyes shifted to the silhouette's gun. It looked ancient, probably an antique from World War II, like the one that he owned. A Swastika plastered on the side confirmed that. But what finally caught Benji's attention was the fact that the gun wasn't a silhouette. It was perfectly normal. The weapon shifted before his eyes, changing into the gun that he was currently carrying. It suddenly clicked in his head. The silhouette wasn't someone playing a trick on him. It _was_ him.

The silhouette disappeared, and he found himself aiming his gun at one of the dead bodies' foreheads. He tried pulling his arm away, but was cut off, "_Ah, ah, ah. You need to prepare the bodies…_" A silhouette's arm wrapped around him, and held the gun still. It pulled the trigger. A small hole appeared where the bullet landed. The pistol dropped to the ground.

Simmons fell to the ground in the fetal position and began to cry. He was scared. What had come over him? What just made him do that? "_Benji… You aren't done yet…_"

"No! I don't want to do this! This is wrong!" he yelled in anger at the animalistic voice.

"_Benji… I will give you an ultimatum… Prepare the bodies… or you __**will**__ get to see your family again…_"

"Wha—what?" How was that an ultimatum? He looked up. Carla, his wife, and Orion, his son, were in the morgue as well. He gasped. Directly behind them was the silhouette of something greatly resembling a gorilla, but with what seemed to be spikes jutting out of random points on it. "Carla?" The gorilla creature positioned itself in front of his family.

"_Make up your mind, Benji? Which do you choose? Do you choose to prepare the bodies, or do you wish to see them again?_"

"I… I want to see them again. I want to see my little boy… my beautiful wife… I choose to see them again…" he said between sobs, still in shock that he had shot someone in the head.

"_Very well then, Benji… You have chosen. You'll be seeing them very soon._"

Simmons felt a cold piece of metal touch his forehead. His eyes shifted to the spot where his gun used to be. It wasn't there anymore.

"_But first, you have to prepare __**your**__ body…_"

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><p><strong>Read, review, and stay tuned for the stunning finale of this story. ... Which will be a few chapters from now.<strong>

**Well, it's not exactly a finale. ... Actually, it is. But you'll see what I mean when we get there.**


	11. Log: 11: Bridge

**Huh? I have two reviews for my latest chapter of USG Colorado? It's been so long since I last got a review. … I … I feel stronger! YES! I FEEL POWERFUL!**

**Vegeta: It's over_ nine thousand!_**

**Okay, back to seriousness.**

**Rafen of the blood: (I hate auto-correct) That's right! Thanks for reviewing! Just a little note, though: CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! ... Please?**

**X-WolfHunter: Eh. I'm just ending it in style.**

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><p><strong>Log 11: Bridge Giovanni Brown**

**August 13, 2513**

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><p>"This is Captain Giovanni Brown. I have a grave misfortune to announce. The acting First Mate, Jason Jacobs, was murdered in his sleep just last night," the captain morbidly announced into the recording system. "He was a high-ranking officer, so his body must be autopsied despite his previous wishes. If there's any chance we can find the murderer, then we must take it." It was quite ironic, actually. The man, while he was still the acting captain, had ordered that all autopsies would stop. However, protocol dictated differently than what he had set in action. The body had to be autopsied. "His body will be autopsied by the Head Medical Officer, Jacob DuFresne."<p>

Giovanni lightly paced. Nicholas Helms, the new acting first mate, now held down the recording button. It wasn't even an actual job, because the recording software only took a press of the button to begin recording, not it being held down. But the captain insisted. Besides, Nicholas would be receiving a slight pay raise for being the first mate for a while.

Giovanni took a sip of his coffee and tried to think of something else. His eyes shifted toward the planet before him. "The White Marker is almost completely excavated. Not a moment too soon, either, sandstorms are moving in from every direction. We can probably actually set up some gravity tethers on the Marker already." He turned to one of the EarthGov Elites. "See if we can do that," He ordered. The soldier saluted and turned to make a brief run to the shuttle that usually went down to Jericho II, idle ever since the morgue had been deployed.

He took a brief sip of his coffee again. What else could he do besides pace and wait for a response from the soldier? He opened his RIG's communication system and tried linking up to Gregory Peyton, the Head Mining Official. The gruff face of the man appeared on the screen. "_Captain?_"

"Status report, Gregory. Any more casualties?" the captain asked.

"_That's a positive, unfortunately. Several more, including the man we assigned to guard the morgue. Apparently, he was necrophobic. We weren't aware of this prior to assigning him. He shot himself in the head._" The official rubbed the back of his head. "_Something isn't right here, captain. I can tell something's up that I'm not seeing. People are disappearing right in broad daylight. I'm losing men, and I don't know where they're going._"

Giovanni nodded. "Very well, then. I'm going to send down some Elites, to check everything out." He signaled, and then heard metal-on-metal _clangs_ as the remaining Elites ran out of the Bridge to the hangar. "And what of the excavation?"

Greg sighed in annoyance and looked around him. From what Captain Brown could tell, the sky around him was turning into a sand-like color. "_I'll be honest with you, captain. I don't think we're going to get another chance to get this thing out of the ground. There are sandstorms incoming, and this is the longest time period that we've observed that there hasn't been a sandstorm in. We aren't going to be this lucky twice, sir._"

"So, what you're suggesting is…?"

"_What I'm saying is that we need to hook on the gravity tethers to the Marker immediately. It might do some damage to it, but we don't really have any time to spare anymore._" Peyton looked away at the sound of someone yelping in pain. "_Looks like we have another murderer. Wish me luck,_" the man said as he saluted, pulling his pistol out.

"Good luck." Giovanni closed the link, and immediately opened a link with the Elite he had originally sent to the shuttle. "You're going to have some company. Wait for the others to arrive. Liftoff in ten minutes."

"_Yes, sir._"

"Good." He closed this link as well. He could feel the tension in the air. Something big was about to go down. He sipped his coffee, and waited for the worst.

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><p><strong>Okay, we're really starting to get close to the finale. The next three chapters will end this story altogether (with a cliffhanger for the sequel, MUAHAHA!). Also, in case you haven't heard through the grapevine yet (Yeah, Captain. Sure there's a grapevine about you), yes, the sequel to <em>this story<em> is the collab I previously mentioned. It will be written with another author, X-WolfHunter, and his characters from the story Dead Space: Trio (read and review). He will call it Dead Space: Jericho II (curses, that's the title I wanted), and I will call it Dead Space: Title Currently Unavailable.**

**Read, review, and stay tuned for the finale! … Or else! … I swear, man, I'll find you.**


	12. Log 12: Ship's Morgue

**Okay, after this, there are only two more chapters left. And they're already typed up. Better make sure nothing happens to—*a guy bumps into me and I drop my jump drive into the sewers by accident* …WHAT?**

**I wish I was kidding about that.**

**Rafen of the blood: (still hate autocorrect) Well, yeah an outbreak has started! It just hasn't affected any of the main characters yet!**

**X-WolfHunter: Yeah… "our shizzle"… whoo…! Kinda awkward.**

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><p><strong>Log 12: USG Colorado's Morgue Jacob DuFresne**

**August 13, 2513**

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><p>Jacob slipped on surgical gloves for what would probably be the last time on this particular voyage. He looked around the morgue. Twenty marines had managed to force themselves into the morgue, keeping a close eye on the doctor, just in case another 'incident' was to occur. He sighed. At least it wasn't Mack Middleson and his fanatical Special Ops team. Jacob craned his neck in order to see the bodies of the miners that had been in the morgue just a day prior. None of them were on their operating tables. The marines had probably shipped them down to the deployable morgue. It would have made sense to him. Jacob's eye's shifted over to the morgue's door. The unpleasant-smelling ooze was forcing its way through the door's cracks. He swallowed as he realized it had been two days since he checked on the substance in his quarters. He remembered the rate at which the substance had multiplied a few days ago, doubling within a just a few minutes. That was over 72 hours ago. How much could it have—?<p>

"Jacob!" one of the marines yelled out, interrupting Jacob's thought process. With a scowl, the doctor turned his head to look at the man in question, the commanding officer of the marines, Jack Andersen. He was slipping on surgical gloves of his own. Apparently, the man had had medical training prior to becoming a marine, and would be serving as the assistant. "Are we going to begin soon, or are you just going to keep procrastinating now that you've got actual supervision from marines?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Give me a moment, I just need to think," he said as he pulled a surgical mask over his mouth. He looked at the door again. On the way in, the marines didn't seem to notice the sludge covering the hallway, even when it slowed the doctor down immensely. Either they were too stupid to notice, or they just didn't care. The latter was, admittedly, more likely. "Okay, let's begin. This is Senior Medical Officer Jacob DuFresne. My assistant is Sergeant Jack Andersen of the USM Marine Corps. Today, we have to autopsy the body of the acting Mirst Fate—eh, sorry—_First Mate_, Jason Jacobs." Jacob made a personal note to stop talking so fast. He would only need his scalpel shortly today, if at all.

Jacob reached for his scalpel, while trying to decide where to begin. There were several stab wounds throughout the torso, unlike the usual neck-slitting. However, it appeared that an attempt had been made to slit Jason's throat, but it was a horrific miss, a cut zigzagging from one collarbone to the lower chest to the other collarbone, with a few points where some involuntary muscle spasms had occurred throughout the cut. But these cuts were much larger and deeper than any he had previously had to deal with. He traced his finger across the cut, and comparing this to the stab wounds. They were precisely the same depth and width. Jacob thought briefly about the limb-thing from yesterday. Would those limbs be able to create these cuts? _No… That wouldn't make any logical sense. There has to be some kind of scientific conclusion to this... What can cause involuntary muscle spasms?… Parkinson's disease. That's right, Parkinson's disease can cause that kind of thing! _"Hand me a data-pad."

Jack glared. "I told you to stop procrastinating, doctor."

"No. If you look closely you can notice that there are some outlying slashes on the body. These were most likely caused by someone who suffers from muscle spasms. A likely cause of this would be Parkinson's disease. I feel we must check the crew's manifest for any with Parkinson's."

The marine applied some thought to that, and nodded in approval. He pulled a data-pad from a nearby drawer. "Fine. But I'm holding the 'pad. I can't trust you."

"By all means," the handicapped doctor replied, gesturing with his hands to continue.

It took a few more minutes than how long it would have taken Jacob or even Nathan to open, but eventually, he managed to open a list. "Okay, there are only two people on this list. The first…" he clicked on the first box, "is a man by the name of… 'Kyle Henderson'." The marine, still looking as if he couldn't possibly care less about anything, looked up. "Is that name familiar to you?"

"It's not him. That was the first man to commit suicide on the excavation site."

Jack rolled his eyes, and clicked on the button to switch to the other dossier. A quiet klaxon sounded from the data-pad, and a warning screen appeared. His expression turned to one of frustration. "Access codes require—what the hell?"

Jacob reached out. "That means the dossier is one of a higher-ranking officer than you. Luckily enough, I can access even the most senior of officers' files." He took the data-pad from the sergeant and typed in the access codes. He dropped the data-pad the instant the warning screen went away and he saw the face. The data-pad landed in his lap. A few gasps of terror came from the marines who saw, including the sergeant.

"C—Captain Brown?" Jack mumbled to himself. "No… that can't be right… it doesn't make any sense…"

But it did. Jacob pieced everything together in his mind. The captain had been hallucinating, which was likely a sign of insanity. Jason Jacobs had put the captain within the power of one of the USG Colorado's psychologists, and made changes that the Captain didn't necessarily agree with within his absence. He had excused a murder by Jacob, more than likely just so that he could use it as leverage when he killed off the First Mate. It all made perfect sense.

Apparently the expression 'Great minds think alike' was more than just an expression. Jack facepalmed before muttering, "But it does make sense, doesn't it…"

Jack began to make a break for the door, activating his RIG's natural gloves and flipping up the helmet. "Come on, soldiers. We've got a traitor to take care of!"

"But Jack—!" Jacob began to yell out as the marine stormed out.

"Shut the hell up, DuFresne!" He stepped in the sludge and nearly slipped. Upon regaining his balance, he yelled out to him, "Get cleaning this damn floor, you damn over-glorified medic!" He signaled for his men to follow him, and they did, leaving the man in the morgue all alone.

For the first time in days, Jacob was finally not doing anything. He began wheeling out of the morgue. But soon as he opened the door, hell broke loose. He heard women screaming in terror down the hallway. He heard heavy footfall, far too heavy to be human. Jacob began to wheel toward his room. If something was going on, it would be best to stay out of the way. The door to his room was convex, bending out to greet the hallway. He waved his hand in front of the somehow operational OPEN hologram. Jacob turned his head as he heard the footfall getting louder.

There was a large, horrific being standing at the end of the hallway. It resembled a gorilla, somewhat, except that it appeared to be seven feet tall, lacking any flesh, and having what looked like armor sticking out of the body. He waved his hand again, but the door was barely reacting. Jacob tried to come up with a name for the creature on the spot. Then, it clicked in his head. _Necromorph. _"Praise Altman… Clarke was right…" He noticed for the first time the creature was holding a woman in its massive right hand. With one swift movement, the body was separated into two pieces, one in the hand, and one in what Jacob assumed to be the mouth of the beast. Now realizing how dire his situation was starting to become, he rapidly waved his hand in front of the open pad. It slowly began to budge before—

_BAM!_

Jacob was thrust from his wheelchair at the force of the ooze exploding out due to the lack of resistance coming from the door. He was pinned to the wall, with the unusual substance beginning to stick directly to him. Jacob could feel his heart slowing down. His eyes, now beginning to cloud up, shifted to the morgue's door. The door opened, and out walked Jason Jacobs. But he was one of the limb-creatures from yesterday. The Necromorph looked at Jacob, made what looked like a smirk, and decapitated the doctor with one swipe of its limbs. The head fell silently to the ground, and Jacob struggled to take one last breath before both the head and the body died. But he failed.

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><p><strong>A little call-out to TheFinalMaster for the "Clarke was right" idea. Sorry if I horrifically botched that up. <strong>

**I know that this chapter seems rushed. I just want to get started on the collab as soon as possible. The later chapters will be better, I assure you. … Also… I know this might make me lose some morality points for doing this, but… can someone please help me come up with a title for the collab story? I can't think of one.**

_**-200 Karma**_

**Damn. Read and review. Please? Pretty please? *I'm now standing right behind you* Pretty pretty please with a cupcake on top?**


	13. Log 13: Deployable Morgue

**Sorry I've been gone for so long. I've been _REALLY_ sick.**

**Rafen of the blood: (RAGE!) That's good to know. You want to know what else is good? Money. Money is good. Isn't it? (Lol.)**

**Corpser821: I get the feeling that you're trying to insult me, but I can't be sure, and I don't know if I should be getting those vibes. Please put more description into your review, I feel like you're saying bad things behind my back.**

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><p><strong>Log 13: Deployable Morgue Frank Jordan**

**August 13, 2513**

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><p>Frank Jordan sipped his coffee. So far, as 'official morgue overseer', a title he had given himself, everything was going quietly. There wasn't anything maddening about being inside of the morgue. <em>Well, there are the blood stains from where Ben shot himself, but that's only a little bit disgusting, not 'shoot myself in the head' crazy. <em>Frank thought to himself about what could have happened to the former communication officer. A few people knew that he had lost his family on the Sprawl, but he had remained pretty level-headed about it. _He must have finally snapped._

While Frank did feel sad about the loss of a fellow crewmate, the man had hardly managed to make his presence known on the _Colorado_, and he would probably be forgotten within a few weeks. Not only that, but any popularity points he had were erased when he defiled one of the dead bodies.

"This is Official Morgue Overseer," Frank smiled at the title, "Frank Jordan. Benji Simmons, the previous morgue overseer, killed himself yesterday. His body has been placed within the morgue." Frank took another sip. The coffee's sweet aroma managed to drown out the wretched stench of rotting carcass. "According to the reports I've heard, a sandstorm or two will be tearing through this area, and it'll probably undo most of the mining process. Eh, I'm probably not going to be affected by it. Morgue's built to last, and there's an access hatch on the top of the morgue just in case the doors stop working. I'm in no danger unless, by some disaster, ten tons of sand get dropped right where the morgue is. But I doubt that."

_Frank… Frank…_

The Morgue Official sat up straight immediately. _Who said that? _The voice sounded slightly familiar, but he couldn't tell where it had come from. He waited a few seconds before deciding, "Must be hearing things. That's not normal." He cleared his ear with his little finger before taking another sip of his coffee.

_Frank…_

He dropped his coffee mug out of shock. The hot brown liquid splashed all over his beige garments. "Ah! God damn it, that's hot! Ow… Ow… ow…" he mumbled to himself while trying to wipe some of it off. He pulled his pistol out. "Alright, who's there?" Jordan asked as he stood up.

_Frank… Frank… Come to me, Frank…_

The Official raised his gun and began moving toward the sound of the voice. He had been down on Jericho II long enough to know the risk that he could die by someone else's hand if he wasn't careful. "Who's there? Come on, show yourself! I know that I'm not alone here! Come out with your hands up!"

_Frank… I have something to tell you… come to me…_

Frank moved to the source, a few of the stretchers. Someone was probably hiding behind them. He made a quick sprint around to catch the speaker red-handed. But no one was there.

_Frank… Come closer…_

Frank shifted his gun to the source of the sound. Simmons' body stared at him, with a sadistic smile on its' face. The mouth moved to form words, and soon the audio came with it:

_Frank… I need to show you something… take my hand…_

The corpse's hand moved to reach for Jordan. He flinched. It wasn't natural for a body to move by itself. _It must be a trick_. He raised his gun and prepared to fire. But then it occurred to him, _Maybe this is what happened to Simmons. Really, what's the worst that could happen by listening to a hallucination? _He hesitated, battling this situation out in his head. Eventually, he let go of his gun with his left hand and took in the outstretched hand of Benji's.

The world went white. Benji was standing in front of the Morgue Overseer, as if nothing had gone wrong the day before. He was completely unscathed, and smiling. "_Frank… this is what will happen to us if you listen to me…_" He moved back a few meters, and then exploded in a brilliant explosion of white light. The explosion became a glorious cloud of light mist. Soon, people started to walk into the mist. People that were dead, but now unscathed, like Benji only seconds ago. Kyle Henderson, the first suicide. Jason Jacobs, the acting first mate. Amanda Manuel, the psychologist who had died in "the unfortunate accident". And… Jacob DuFresne, out of his wheelchair. Was the man dead now? Apparently, based on the current context. Soon, the mist faded. Only one person remained out of all that entered. The man was a combination of all of them, combined to form a beautiful creature. In a soothing voice, it told Frank Jordan, "_You see, Frank… If you do as I ask, then we will all become one. We will be one. But first, you must make us whole… Make us one… One being..._"

The man awoke from his trance. He wiped his eyes upon realizing he had tears upon his face. He looked around, before realizing that it had all been just a hallucination, and he was holding the hand of a dead body. He let go, and brushed his hand off before nudging Benji's to see if it would twitch. Obviously, it did not. The Morgue Overseer sighed in annoyance, and moved back to the chair he had been originally sitting in. He sat down, and began considering going back to the mess hall to get another cup of coffee.

"_What are you thinking about?_" A voice asked. Frank wasn't going to fall for it a second time. He didn't turn to acknowledge it a second time.

"I'm trying to decide whether I should get another mug of coffee. I spilled mine."

"_You should probably do that. It's free coffee, and you only get it for a few more days until you have to go back onto the _Colorado." Frank thought about what the Benji hallucination was saying. It did make sense, what it was saying. It was coffee, and it would only be a while before he had to start paying for it with credits. Best to take advantage of the situation.

Frank stood up and went to the front door of the deployable morgue, pausing only when he raised his hand to open the door. _What if this is some part of some master plan brought about by the hallucination?_ He thought to himself about that, then shrugged it off. _I don't think that a figment of my imagination could have that much control. _We waved his hand in front of the glowing cyan _OPEN_ sign. The door opened, and he stepped outside.

The sky around him was turning a dark tan. The whole world around him was preparing for the sandstorm that would soon be coming. A few miners ran to the mess hall, apparently trying to take a break from the unusual object that had fixated the attention of the captain. Frank almost began to think badly of the captain, but decided against it. _Captain's probably having as much trouble up there with the politics of the ship as we're having with the psychos down here. _He began to move to the mess hall.

When he arrived, he found it quite crowded, opposed to the usual small group that had been procrastinating with working. "Why's it this crowded today?" he asked a nearby miner.

The miner turned around to reveal himself as Zachary James, the more 'optimistic' member of the higher circle of miners. "Oh, well—" He looked down and lightly chuckled. "You might want to get that checked out," he said, pointing to the coffee stain on Frank's lower garment.

Frank eye-rolled at this. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Heh… Well, apparently a few people got it in their heads that if they stop digging now, they won't have to worry about the sandstorm. But if they just kept mining, we would probably be done by now. Bunch of slackers," the man said, spitting after the last word. He sighed. "But you're probably here for a coffee refill. Get it while it's hot, a few people are starting to convince the others that it's the coffee that makes people go insane. Which would explain why the HMO's doing so well fighting it, man never comes in here," he joked.

Frank walked over to the coffee machine, and pushed the dispense button after placing his coffee cup in the right location. He waited for it to be done, then took his mug and left the hall. He took a sip. He looked at the brown sky. The sandstorm would probably arrive during the night. Who knew when it would end?

"_It's really funny, isn't it?_" asked the Ben-llucination. "_All of your fellow crewmates are dying by plasma picks. Plasma picks look a little bit like scythes. Funny, that._"

"What are you talking about now?" the Morgue Overseer asked in annoyance.

"_I'm just saying… maybe they would prefer it if they just died now, as opposed to what could happen when the… Necromorphs show up._"

"The what? What are you rambling on about?"

"_You have to kill them, Frank._"

"What—No!"

"_Do it. Do it… to make us whole…_"

Suddenly, Frank's mind was assaulted by images of the perfect creature in his vision. He dropped his coffee again, this time on the ground. But he wasn't frustrated or even annoyed by this. He was too busy with the ideas forcing their way into his head now, trying to force them out. Then, one idea forced its way through his defenses. _Plasma cutter…_

It was so obvious. Although Isaac Clarke had used one to kill everything onboard the Sprawl, the USG had never made the decision to remove all plasma cutters from the ship's essential equipment list. Mainly because they were an essential piece of equipment. And it just happened that Frank Jordan knew how to get some. There were some cutters sitting in the equipment locker, where everyone got their plasma picks. Although it had only been opened once, by Kyle Henderson and the necessary codes, Frank had a very good memory, and was there when Henderson entered the codes in question.

Frank moved, almost zombie-like, to the equipment locker. He was trying to stop himself, but was also trying to speed up the process at the same time. He wanted to be one being but he didn't want to kill anyone to become it. Soon, though, he got to the locker, and opened it. Inside were three plasma cutters, and the necessary ammunition to wield them. He grabbed one, and five clips of plasma energy. That would probably be more than enough.

The man moved to the mess hall, keeping the cutter hidden. He stopped near the door and picked up his mug. He went for the door.

"Hey, Frank. Back already? I guess I did tell you to get it while it's still there. Go ahead, coffee's where it always is," James said while trying to calm a crazed miner who had apparently snapped.

Frank set his mug in position. He pressed the dispensing button.

Then he turned around and opened fire. The first shot took three men down with it, their brains splattering across the cold grey steel around them. A quick adjustment and a few more went down. Three more, then two, then five. Zachary James ran for the door, making an attempt to leave. He opened the door and let out a scream of pain as his torso was severed from his lower half with a well-placed shot. Both halves collapsed to the ground. Frank cringed as he heard the scream. Odds were, someone else heard it. But they would probably make their way to the mess hall to investigate. Then he wouldn't have to hunt them down.

He continued firing at the remaining miners, none of them getting anywhere near close enough to the door to let out a warning like James had. Frank killed them all off, then waited for someone to show up. He didn't have to wait long.

"Frank! I know you're in there! Drop the weapon and put your hands up!" It was the voice of Gregory Peyton, the Head Mining Official.

Frank pulled out his pistol and held it in his free hand, preparing to open fire on anyone who came in with both the gun and the engineering tool.

"Last warning! I don't want to do this, Frank!"

There was a pause before anything happened, a calm-before-the-storm. But Greg was the one to break it. He ran in, raising his pistol and trying to land a headshot on the Morgue Overseer. Frank returned fire, and ceased only when ammo ran out of the guns. No one hit anything. He dropped his pistol, being the worthless piece of equipment that it was. He reloaded the Cutter and aimed before firing, this time taking both of Greg's hands clear off with one shot. The man screeched in pain, but then charged in an attempt to tackle the murderer.

_Say what you want about Greg; he's one determined guy._ Frank aimed his Cutter, then fired. The shot split Gregory Peyton's head clear in half, and the man fell to the ground. Soon, another man came in, brandishing his gun. Jose White, the former chief of security. And the man had a sense of aim. One well-placed shot disarmed Frank, and another rendered his right arm immobile. He fell to the ground, nursing the wound.

"You've still got it in you, old timer," Jose told himself, confident that Frank was immobilized. That was his biggest, last mistake.

Despite what reports had all said, Frank was ambidextrous. He had trained himself to be so. And it was about to pay off. Greg's severed hands were sitting in front of him, still gripping the pistol that would now save Frank Jordan's life. With his left hand, he grabbed the gun and raised it towards Jose. One of the dead fingers, conveniently wrapped around the trigger twitched for the last time, and killed the former chief of security.

Frank stood up. Now, he had to find the other miners.

_That won't be necessary…_

"What do you mean, 'it won't be necessary'? You told me I had to kill everyone!" Frank asked as he pried the hands of Gregory Peyton off of his new pistol.

_You see, we're ready now. Come back to the morgue, and you'll see. You've come one step closer to making us whole._

Frank sighed. The hallucination hadn't misled— no, actually, that was just about all it had done. But it was for a good cause. He began to head to the morgue.

When he got there, the door was glowing orange, with it apparently locking itself after Jordan had left. Something flesh-like was forcing its way out of the frame. He entered his access code, and the door slowly opened after the orange turned to cyan.

When the door opened, he was nearly crushed. A large, dog-like creature pounced on him, and sent him flying down into the sand. He was pinned under its weight. The creature looked him in the eyes. Then it was obvious. This creature was the body of Benji.

The lower jaw was split, and the canine teeth had extended to freakish proportions. Both of the back legs were fused into one. And it weighed a lot. But it was obvious, looking into the eyes, that _this_ was the man once known as Benji Simmons.

The creature made a few bites at Frank's head, all of which barely missed. A few unusual looking bipedial creatures walked out of the morgue, flailing as they went. Scythes forced their way out of their shoulders. Frank felt the Benji-creature bite into his neck. He gave out one final gasp of air.

As the world dimmed, Frank could only stare into the sky. A shuttle was on its way down. It would have to deal with the horrors Frank had unleashed. With his last bit of air, he barely managed to say, "We won't be whole."

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><p><strong>And there it is. Don't like it? Blame NyQuil. Read and review. <strong>


	14. Log 14: Bridge

**I hate Youtube commenters. I'm just going to say that. I'm sure some of them aren't idiots, but most of them are. Okay? They don't even think before talking. Ugh...**

**Rafen of the blood: Thanks for reviewing. And do me a favor? NEVER SAY EPIC TO ME AGAIN. It could mean everything, and my version of "epic" probably means something significantly different than yours. Especially because my version of epic means walking down the street to Starbucks, and getting a scone. Don't even get me started about coffee.**

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><p><strong>Log 14: Bridge Giovanni Brown**

**August 13, 2513**

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><p>"Alright, everyone! We've got to make sure that none of those things are getting through that door!" Giovanni called out to the rest of the crew on the bridge. It had only been a few minutes since the initial signs of violence, before those… creatures showed up on the security cameras.<p>

"_Necromorphs. They're called Necromorphs,_" Fredrick Brown said. Giovanni was aware of the hallucination, and ignored it.

"How long will the doors hold?" Giovanni asked Nicholas, who was trying to barricade the door with a few heavy objects.

"Well, the Necromorphs won't be kept out for very long. These doors weren't built with holding off attackers in mind," the man replied. "But maybe if the marines get back soon, they'll be able to force their way through."

It had been bad intuition to let all of the EarthGov Elites leave the bridge, especially when the marines were in the morgue. 'Jacob needs to be supervised,' they had said. _Ugh…_ "Necromorphs? Where did you get 'Necromorphs' from?"

"Well, they're dead… and they're clearly made of humans. Dead, morph. Necromorph," Nick responded as he grabbed a nearby power block and set it up in front of the door, which barely made a difference.

"That's ridiculous! Why not just settle for 'zombie'?"

"Sir! We've got an unknown contact that just got done shocking out! Unknown if they're hostile or friendly! Wait… Three contacts!" a communications officer yelled out to the captain.

"God damn it! Could this situation get any worse? Hopefully they're some EarthGov reinforcements; those damned… things are getting through!" Giovanni yelled in anger. He began pacing. _But what if they aren't? What if they're part of those damn anarchists going around? … I'd better get over to one of the escape pods, just in case._

Suddenly, the pounding on the door stopped and was replaced with a louder, more metal-on-metal pounding. "Let us in! They're gone, but only momentarily! Hurry!" It was Jack Andersen. Simply by hearing another human voice, the crew moved to push the piles of objects away from the door to let the captain through so he could unlock the door to the outside hallways.

When the door indicator's color changed from orange to cyan, it was only a second before it disappeared and the marines charged through the opening doors, pulse rifles at their sides. They, in turn, helped move things back into position so that the creatures couldn't get through.

Giovanni noticed a glare coming from the USM Sergeant. Without saying a thing, he seemed to be accusing the captain of something.

"_I don't trust the look on his face,_" Fredrick said, sounding slightly worried. Giovanni nodded.

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><p>One of the marines broke down into tears and collapsed into the fetal position. Jack wasn't amused. He kicked the marine right between the eyes with the metal boots that were regulation for marines to wear. "Get the hell up, soldier! You're a marine; you're trained to deal with this shit!"<p>

"But, sir! We—we aren't trained to deal with god-damn zombies! And those things got Marcus and John! And Jenkins! They got Jenkins!" the marine cried out as he continued to sob.

"And you're just going to break down in front of all of these bridge jockeys? Huh?" He slapped the marine on the back of the head. "Get a goddamn grip!" Jack turned his attention to the captain. "You…"

"Sergeant—"

"Don't you talk to me, you coward!" He raised his rifle to meet Giovanni. "You thought you could get away with it, eh? You thought you could just kill someone and get away with it, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Nicholas Helms asked as he realized what was going on.

"You remember Jason Jacobs? We found his murderer," Jack said with a glare on his face toward the captain. "And you almost got away with it, too."

"_What?_ That's absurd! What on Earth makes you think that I would murder… anyone, let alone the first mate?" Giovanni reasoned, trying to prove his innocence with reason.

"Giovanni Brown, you are being placed under military arrest by order of the United Space Marines. Cease and desist." Jack ordered the captain to put his hands up, which he did. Jack slapped the sobbing marine on the back of the head. "Handcuffs. Now."

The marine stood up and went over to the captain, clipping handcuffs onto the wrists of the man. The captain sighed. He was innocent, and he knew it, despite what the man with a gun claimed. Still, though. He had a gun. And as long as there was a gun around, Giovanni would be much safer than he would be without one. "There. Are you happy now?" Giovanni sighed in annoyance and prepared to sit down in a nearby chair.

He was, instead, knocked down with a punch from Sergeant Andersen. The marine turned around. "Alright, I'm taking over the ship. Martial law. Now what's gone on in the past few minutes that I'm not aware of?"

"Well, three ships have appeared within this planet's general vicinity. Unidentified." Nicholas agreed that it was about time for a new captain, not the incompetent one that they currently had.

"Have they made any attempt to contact the _Colorado_?"

"Negative. Also… the EarthGov Special Forces team down planetside shortly before the outbreak started."

Jack flinched at that. Mack Middleson and his men were good soldiers. He needed them up on the _Colorado_ at all costs. "Can we set up communications with them from here?"

The Comm. Officer from before spoke up, "My computer can set up long distance communications to RIG's. There's one down on Jericho, so that Greg can communicate with the captain's RIG."

"You think I give a damn? Get off the computer; I need to make a call." Jack sat at the computer and pressed a few buttons before a new screen opened up, with several new names appearing. _Gregory Peyton_. That was the Head Mining Official; it would make sense to contact him. He pressed the name, and a video-link opened up. He immediately turned away. Before him was the face of Peyton, but it was split vertically into two. There was a shocked expression on each half. "God damn it… Looks like they were less lucky than the rest of us…"

He closed the link and tried to open a different link. When it opened, he came very close to having a heart attack. The link opened to show one of the unusual creatures mid-roar. He immediately closed the link and tried to slow his breathing.

Several new names appeared on the list of links. _Mack Middleson, George Seacrest, Daniel Webber…_ Good enough. He clicked on Mack's name. It opened to the soldier, in full gear, laughing in glee and shooting his gun around, murdering anything that got in his way. "Mack?"

"_Ha ha ha! Hello, sergeant! What can I help you with?_" he asked with a laugh. "_God, I haven't had this much fun in ages!_"

"Um… right, then. I need you to return back to the ship. Now," Jack said with a sigh. He didn't like asking for help, it made him feel… inferior, somehow.

"_No can do, sarge. These things destroyed my shuttle, killed Ditzy along with it,_" Mack replied before reloading his gun and opening fire again.

"_Her name was Daniel, sir!_" an anonymous voice yelled out, probably another Spec-Op soldier.

"_Whatever._ _We can't return now. Maybe you feel like joining us? There's a lot less—is that a god damned sandstorm!_"

"Oh, right. The sand storm. The captain warned us about that." Jack personally hit himself for forgetting about that. "We might need to actually need to join you. Three unidentified ships have entered the airspace around Jericho II."

"_Wonderful. Hope you're hungry, dinner's almost done, sweetie!_" the insane man yelled before firing his grenade launcher at some unidentified target. "_Ha ha ha! See you soon!_" he yelled before closing the link.

Jack sighed and prepared his gun. The man was probably right. The ships were almost positively hostile. Why else wouldn't they have opened communications with the _Colorado._ "Ready up, marines. We're going to have to make a run for the shuttle bay. Anyone who wants to live should probably also do so." Jack observed the shocked reactions from most of the crew. They probably wouldn't make it. He readied his gun. _Those things killed my men. That shit ain't gonna fly with me._

He took a look at the captain, who—"Where the hell is the captain? No!" He ran to where the escape pods were. Giovanni, who had his hands free now, saluted before he jettisoned his pod, apparently having already released all the others. "No! Who was responsible for this? Who let the captain go?"

The marine who had broken down earlier raised his hand shamefully. "I did, sir." He couldn't even apologize before he was shot in the unprotected head.

"Piece of shit." He spit on the dead body. "Alright, we're going to need to make a run. A just plain run. Don't stop for anything. Don't try to be a hero if there's anyone alive. My men will cover our exit, but if their lives are in any more immediate danger than they will be normally, don't expect them to help." He stood in front of the door, and prepared to wave his hand in front of the _OPEN _panel, having no one locked it prior.

When the door opened, a creature with scythes bursting out of its collarbones appeared before him, only there for a second before Jack shot it in the head and shoved it out of the way. He charged out, opening fire in front of him and tackling whatever got in his way. Behind him, the marines covered both the right and left sides of the hallway, shoving the creatures that were made of the crew out of the way of the bridge's crew and them, respectively. It was like this for what seemed like hours, with a few members dying on the way.

Suddenly, the ship's alarms burst on. "_Attention, crew. Large projectile inbound. Nuclear-based… confirmed. Impact within five minutes. Evacuate immediately._" Jack looked in horror at the PA system that alerted him to this. He started running faster, packing down his gun and now just tackling anything that got in his way out of his way.

Soon, they made it to the shuttle bay. Four shuttles remained. Jack turned around and ordered to his squad, "Split up into the shuttles! Make sure those bastards don't get off the _Colorado_!" He turned around and prepared to fight off the creatures, knowing that as sergeant, it was his duty to ensure the squad's survival. The remaining team ran past, and the creatures followed. They didn't get far before being fired upon.

Jack found that aiming for the limbs did more damage to them than body- and head-shots, so he aimed for the scythe-arms instead of the normal policy. Grenades didn't do much to the crowds. "Sir! Fall back now!" one of his marines ordered. He didn't need to be told twice. He turned and ran for the nearest shuttle. The creatures mainly went after the others, and Jack gunned down any that came close to his.

"_Necessary thrust for liftoff in ten seconds_," the piloting marine reported through radio. _Ten seconds? It's gonna be the longest ten seconds of my life…_ Jack continued to fire and began panicking. He didn't have very much ammo left. He pulled out his Seeker Rifle and began to take shots. One got through, and killed two of the bridge's crew, before Jack turned around and fired, ripping off both limbs and the head. The shot didn't stop there, though. It continued, and decapitated Nicholas Helms, the acting first mate. He paused once he realized what he had done before turning and continuing to fire.

He heard a scream of terror, and turned toward the source. The furthest shuttle was being overrun by the creatures. His men were being cut down as he could only watch.

"_There we go! Liftoff initiated!_" The shuttle's doors closed, and the ship began lifting off.

Jack sat down as he felt the gravity change. He sighed. But then came the explosion. Even in space, he could hear the nuke detonate. He facepalmed. The _Colorado _was no more.

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><p><strong>... Stay tuned for <em>Dead Space: End of the White Marker (name still in<em> _progress_). ... Or _Dead Space: Jericho II. _Whatever works for you. (Edit: actually, this isn't going to happen anymore. X-WolfHunter and I have other stuff to worry about now. Sorry. I might write a sequel myself, though)**

**Okay, well, thanks for sticking around 'til the end. Even if you had to suffer. I appreciate your suffering. ... Wait...**

**Read and review. Thanks for everything. **


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